Sea Green Sand Dollar
by silver-hedgehog
Summary: Annie's not exactly the luckiest girl as proven by the events in her life. But is being reaped really as bad as it seems? Especially when Finnick Odair is watching over her... Follows all that has been said in the books. -Finnick x Annie-
1. Chapter 1

Sea Green Sand Dollar

So this is my first Hunger Games fanfics :D inspired mostly by Finnick Odair, of course! Anyway, this is also my first fic that I have written in the present tense so please bear with me!

Before you leave this page I know what you're thinking. There are several storues like this one out there and I'm not going to disagree because there are but I'd eally appreciate it if you gave my fic a shot! I've even noted down what we already know to incorporate into the story!

A slightly more detailed summary:

On the day of the reaping for the 70th anniversary, Annie steps on a sand dollar, something that's said to bring bad luck in District 4. As a result, she gets reaped and meets Finnick Odair, her half mentor, who promises to tell her a secret if she makes it out of the games alive.

Disclaimer: see profile.

**From Annie's POV.**

Chapter 1: The Reaping

I have been told I am simple, like a seashell. I think it is flattering when someone compares you to something as pretty as that. I always liked to spend my scarce and almost non-existent spare time down by the infamous beaches of District 4, my home, swimming or looking for pretty shells for my collection.

I decided to take a short stroll down to the beach and clear my mind, hoping to calm the dread that has been building up within me over the past weeks when they started to show reruns of last year's Hunger Games on the town square's screen.

They showed it all: the gore, the deceit and the starvation that goes on in those arenas, a place that, with any luck, I will never have to experience. Ever.

I stopped walking towards the sea when I felt something poking my foot from beneath and lift my foot off the silky soft sand. It was a sand soon as my brain registers the sand dollar, I immediately drop it.

There are superstitions in District 4, one of which accounts for my dropping the sand dollar. Sand dollars are known to be a curse around these areas. Seeing them, touching them, associating with them in any way is like breaking a mirror, only worse if I remember correctly.

It is too bad people don't compare me to a conch or something like that. They usually call me a sand dollar. And they have reason to.

I am not exactly the luckiest girl, I have to admit. When I born, my mother died shortly after giving birth to me and when I was eight, my dad disappeared off the coast somewhere along with the boat and a few other crew members during their daily catch. Ever since then, I've been living with my grandparents, who adore me, being their only relative left.

I hope that my nickname does not ring true for today is the dreaded reaping. And knowing my luck, it's my turn to be chosen.

* * *

I left my hair as it is, as I always leave it. My hair has a subtle shine to it, making it look natural and the sea breeze that I feel caressing my skin everyday gives my hair a slight wave.

I present myself to my grandma. She always helps me get prepared for the reaping by making sure I do not leave the house until I look appropriate for the occasion.

On my body is the White dress that I wore to last year's reaping. I am surprised that it still fits me like it did last year; not too tightly or too loosely, just perfectly.

Once my grandma has given me the seal of approval, I leave the house with a smile until they can't see me and I know it is safe to convey how I really feel on my face. Fear.

Getting in to the town square, which has been transformed from its usual hustling and bustling Market place to a heavily guarded space of nothing but a stage with a few seats and a podium, is difficult. People are lining up to get in, not that they have a choice, and the peacekeepers are keeping guard.

I notice my friend at the front of the line next to mine and I make eye contact with her, confirming that I will see her as soon as I get in because we both without a doubt need someone to stand by each other while we hold our breaths and pray that it is not our names that are drawn from the glass dish that look suspiciously like a fishbowl.

Once I emerge from having my fingerprint and blood taken, I approach my friend and we walk forward together, arms linking tightly together in case we get separated like we did in our first year of the reaping.

We walk forward until it is physically not possible to proceed any further. From where I stand, I get a good view of the people on stage.

To the left side is where they usually put the boys dish and the seats for the mayor who is trying to loosen his tie to relieve himself of some heat. He must be boiling wearing a suit like that under the blazing afternoon sun.

Next to him is where the escort for district 4 sits when she is not speaking. I think her name is Lacy or something like that. I can not really remember. She looks even more flamboyant that last year and I did not think that was possible. Her skin has been died pink and her hair is a dark shade of purple. She wears a yellow dress suit with lots of lace and sparkly bits attached to it. If my grandma saw that, she would not get the seal of approval that is for sure.

There is gap between the next lot of seats where past victors of the games sit. The youngest is a girl who won three years ago, I don't remember watching her game much but I do know that the year she won was the year after Finnick Odair, a handsome nineteen year old who was reaped when he was just fourteen, two years younger than I am now.

Finnick is the type of guy who attracts a lot of attention. I remember him before the games. I never spoke to him but remember seeing him. He looked like any other guy except he had the most alluring pair of sea green eyes. They say that sea green eyes are meant to be lucky (at least that's what they say in District 4) but four years ago, the luck of the eyes failed him.

Since his turn in the arena, he has grown up. He has a more defined face and body, emphasising the fact that he is no longer a child but an able man.

Next to Finnick Odair is one of the oldest living victor of our district. Old Mags, as everyone calls her. I've seen her round town a lot, spoken with her too. She is really friendly and a nice person to have a laugh with. But now that there is a younger female victor, Mags no longer mentor the tributes, like she did with both Finnick and the other girl, Camille.

There were other victors in between Finnick's and old Mag's victory but they all died because of different causes from boating accidents to depression. If I remember right, there were three other victors, two male and one female.

"Let's pray that we don't get reaped." my best friend Annika says to me.

Annika has been my friend since... Forever and I don't want our friendship to die because one of us got reaped and had to end it. Unwillingly, I like to think.

I nod in agreement and try to maintain a positive outlook. Out of all the people here, the odds of me being reaped seem slim, considering that only the minimum number of times my name has been entered obligatory is there. "Let's." I say, trying not to worry her. I feel like if I say any more I may vomit with nerves.

I jump slightly when I hear Lacy speak into the microphone. She gives us the usual lecture of the history of the Hunger Games and what happened to District 13 when there was one and all that and before we know it, she has moved onto the clip that they show us every year. The clip runs for fifteen minutes, during which time I feel my hands start to produce a whole load of excess perspiration and my heart starts to beat faster until I start to feel uncomfortable.

Lacy wastes no time and moves onto the reaping itself, starting with the girls dish like she does every year. "Ladies first." She always says in that annoying voice that on;y Capitollers can withstand.

Annika and I huddle in together, as if it would help protect our names from being drawn. And when she says what I think I hear her say, I black out.

She called my name. Annie Cresta.

* * *

Well this is my first chapter and yes, I realise that it's quite short. I hope you liked it and please review! I will make the next chapter longer (I've already written it). But for now please review and hopefully I'll speak to you again via my author's notes in chapter 2.


	2. Farewell

So, hi, I'm back with a second chapter! I'm glad people reviewed and I want to say a quick thanks before I let you guys read on. So, yeah, thanks to all who reviewed and stuff. You people make me avery happy bunny! Anyway, I will leave you alone for now to read on!

Chapter 2: Farewell

When I come to, I find myself in an unfamiliar room, most likely in the Justice Building considering how soft the bed is, unlike the one at home, and the room is a lot bigger than my room and a lot more modernly furnished too.

I slowly push myself up into a sitting position, scanning the room for the presence of my grandparents or Annika, or anyone that could tell me how long I was out for. When I get up, I feel slightly light headed and the need to sit back down again hits me hard.

Was my name really called at the reaping? I hope not but when the door swings opens and Lacy flounces in with enthusiasm that I have awoken, I know that it has happened. What I thought just before I blacked out was correct. I've been reaped. I'm going to die, with any luck, quickly and as painlessly as possible.

"Good to see you're awake, Annie." she says, her voice rising sharply at certain syllables which does not help the splitting feeling in head one bit. Curse those Capitollers and their annoyingly uncontrolled pitches.

I give her a weak smile instead of bombarding her with the bank of overflowing questions that have accumulated in my head in a matter of seconds.

"Congratulations!" she says gleefully. "You've been selected as a tribute!" she explains. She says 'selected' like I was reviewed then chosen willingly and not forced. What a load of shrimps.

When she leaves me alone to go bring up my grandparents to bid me goodbye forever, I try to get the news to sink in to my still throbbing head.

Me. Annie Cresta, a lover not a fighter, a sand dollar, has been selected to be a tribute in the hunger games which forms around the basis of violence, hunger, betrayal and every horrible thing a person can imagine up pretty much. Or more specifically, what fuels the happiness of those colourfully dressed freaks in Panem. My brain doesn't agree with the news and tells me so by trying to make me black out again but it doesn't work. Instead, I rise to my feet and try to stand proud and look brave for when my grandparents see and then Annika afterwards. But acting brave probably isn't going to go down with them well seeing as they'll probably know about my fainting at the sound of the news even though they did not go to watch the reaping in the public gallery. They never do but I don't know why that is though.

When my grandma and grandpa emerge from the door, I throw myself into their arms like I did after my dad deserted me. I try not to cry like I did back then but a few stray tears cascade down my sun-kissed cheeks and I know by the time they leave, I'll have had my breakdown. They've seen it once before and no more. I didn't think I'd ever break down again but I guess I was wrong, after all I am a sand dollar and therefore not that lucky.

I don't say anything and they don't either until my crying subsides. They just comfort me as I let how I feel about being a tribute out of my system.

"Don't worry Annie." my grandpa says in his saddened voice. It wasn't anything like his old but jolly sounding voice that brings I smile to my face in the mornings. I know he's trying hard to be optimistic about my return but we've all seen the games before and we know that that isn't going to happen.

Everyone is like a killing machine. They it with no mercy, but I do understand that if you hesitate, the chances are the dead one will be you.

"Your grandpa's right." my grandma says. "You have the Cresta's trademark sea green eyes." she says. To most people, that means almost nothing but to District 4, that means a lot. It's another superstition. People with sea green eyes are meant to be lucky and, I suppose if you exclude, the saying rings true. All the tributes that have won for district 4 share the same sea green eyes, I think.

I don't lift my head up but I know that I have to eventually. Time is almost over, I think and my grandparents will have to leave me.

My grandma takes my hand and unravels my fingers from the fists that they were balled up in and places a small White scallop shell in my palms. A White scallop shell is meant to protect its owner. They are rare and when people find them, they don't trade them for anything in the world.

I smile and mange to squeak out a thank you followed by a downpour of tears that were resting in my eyes, obscuring my vision of what could be my last time seeing my only family members. I wipe my tears with my bare arm and try to take in as much of my grandparent's features as I can. I look at their faces with care, taking note of features on my grandma's and grandpa's faces that I'd never noticed before now, like the faint brown freckles around the edge of her nose. My grandpa has a the tiniest mole under his left eye, something that I remember seeing when I was younger and questioning him about its origin and whether one like that will grow on me or not.

I'd not finished crying yet when they remove my grandparents from the room but during the short time it took them to bring Annika in, my crying had almost ceased only to almost restart again when I see my best friend. But I try to brush the feeling aside because I know I have to remember to tell Annika, my closest friend since childhood, to check in on my grandparents. And pray for my return but we both know I'm unlikely to ever swim in the clear blue District 4 sea ever again.

She stumbles into the room, probably pushed by the peacekeepers that led her here. Her light brown hair flips over her face and covers it. I try to help her, folding her hair behind her point elf ears as I always called them. I then throw my arms into a tight embrace around her then retreat after a few minutes to allow me to give out the speech of things to do for me while I'm away.

"Annika, I know we don't have much time but I to tell you this but I want you to keep an eye on my grandparents." I say rapidly. She nods her head and I continue to speak. "And if your family needs anymore rope for their business, go into my house and there's a wooden box I keep under my bed. That's my supply box. Take it when you need it. It's the last of my supply. I made it in case today ever came."

She nods frantically again.

I feel more at ease knowing that she promised to look after my grandparents for me and put the rope to good use in her family's fishing business.

We usually have a mutual relationship in terms of needs. I make durable rope and give it to her family, illegally, in exchange for fish. It is how we have built up our friendship over the years since the price of rope like the kinds I make have rocketed over the years.

"And when I get back," I say, trying to cheer her up, give her hope that I may have a chance of returning. "I want you to have confessed your feelings to Declan."

Declan is a guy that Annika that I have known for years. He's around our age and we used to be best friends but as we grew up, we started to see and talk to each other less and less. But we haven't stopped talking to each other completely. We still talk from time to time about old times and recent things that have been happening. I was talking to him only last week.

She looks at me with sad eyes. "If you come back he won't."

Then I remember that I blacked out after my name was called, meaning that I've no idea what happened afterwards. I have no idea who the other tribute is or how long I was out for.

I don't say anything to Annika. I don't know what to say to make her feel better. Instead, I put an arm around her and try to calm her down. It feels as if I am comforting her over being drawn as a tribute rather than the other way around.

When our time together is up, Annika has to be physically dragged out of the room by peacekeepers. She was on her knees with her arms around my legs when she was carried off. Her crying and screaming almost sets me off too.

I use the limited amount of time I have before Lacy comes to take me to the Capitol to think of an escape plan. The windows are barred off, making it impossible for me to plunge out of here to my death on the burning stone floor five meters below. There doesn't seem to be any sharp objects that I can use to stab into my heart so that plan is out of the question too.

Instead, I'll have to prepare myself for the tough few weeks running up to my death. If I have no chance of winning, I should at least do what I can to make sure Annika won't lose two friends in such a short space of time.

When the door opens again, I see Lacy and I feel my heart start to accelerate again.

* * *

We're on the train heading to the Capitol, a place of bright lights, ridiculous fashion and cruelty. The doors have just shut. Declan and I walk behind Lacy, neither one of us speaking, not that we had a chance to. Lacy speaks at such a pace that makes following what she has to say hard if you miss even a single word.

"And this carriage is where we will gather for our meeting. We should be arriving at the Capitol tonight." Lacy explains, her pitching of words worse than what I remember when I heard her voice through her speakers earlier today.

Being from District 4 means we are not too far from the Capitol. It still takes quite a number of hours to get there though.

The carriage that we are in now is decorated elaborately; typical of what Capitollers like the decor of almost everything to be. There is a large flat screen on the silky lilac wall that we entered from. Across from the screen is a large couch, bluey silver in colour and soft and furry to the touch. Behind the couch is a table where our mentors are, gorging on some sort of wobbly, transparent food. I am surprised about the sight of our mentors Finnick Odair and Old Mags (whose full identity has remained a mystery to everyone under the age of about sixty).

The presence of Old Mags is what throws me off. What happened to Camille? She was meant to relieve Old Mags from mentoring when she won her game. She was already sixteen when she won and she had already mentored before. She motored the tributes last year with Finnick.

No one seems to notice my confusion.

Lacy urges us to take a seat at the table by Finnick and Old Mags. I take the seat across from Old Mags and Declan takes the one across from Finnick. Lacy sits at the top of the table between the boys, preparing to talk at an uncomprehendable rate again.

I look at Declan, who looks just as nervous as I am that when we are offered food, we don't what to do. Take it? I turn mine down. Not wanting to eat something that I am likely to be regurgitated later on. Declan eats it though.

Once everyone finishes their food, Lacy begins to go over a few things. "So when we arrive at the Capitol tonight, we should all get some rest. Then tomorrow Annie and Declan will undergo a make-over for the opening ceremony."

"The stylists are going to have a lot to do if they want Annie to redeem herself." Finnick says and for a moment I do not understand what he means. But then it dawns on me. I am probably the only tribute to faint when their name was drawn at the reaping. Ever. And that it has been broadcasted on national television for everyone to see. Annie Cresta, the weak tribute that has no chance of making it out of the initial bloodbath.

"Good point, Finnick." Lacy says. She would say that. Agree with the always perfect looking Finnick Odair.

"You made Hunger Games history today." says Mags in her voice before she let out a light hearted laugh that I always hear her do when I see her at the local shop.

Her attempt to lighten my mood worked. I laugh slightly at her remark, though, I am likely to be targeted later during training and in the arena for portraying how weak I am, even before the games have actually started. Great going Annie…

"Seeing as she passed out earlier, she probably doesn't know why Mags is taking Camille's place." Finnick points out. Okay, so maybe someone did notice my confusion.

Lacy nods and excitedly explains that Camille has been excused from mentoring because of meetings with President Snow or something like that. She does not seem to be sure about it either.

"So who's my mentor?" I ask.

"Well, traditionally, girl tributes are mentored by female victors so they bought in Mags for you." Finnick says with a pat on Mags back. He looks at her in way that shows he's proud to show her off unlike any of his lovers. She smiles a smile that allows her to flash her false teeth.

I don't say anything about the news but if I'm honest, I'm not sure if I want Mags to mentor me, as lovely as she is. She walks with a cane (that I have never seen her walk without) and she always says how her back aches. How is she going to be able to guide me through things that she can't even do, at least not anymore. Instead I smile out of politeness and poke my food, which apparently is called jelly.

* * *

We're half way through the journey to the Capitol now. Everyone except Lacy is still in the carriage with the food. I'm sitting on the floor in front of the screen next to Declan who is trying to build a tower of cards like he would use to whenever he has a lot on his mind. Directly behind us is Mags, who is sitting on the couch dozing off with a blanket that soaks up her drool and Finnick is sitting on the couch too, watching what seems like another year of the hunger games.

I wasn't paying attention but when he switched that one off and played another game from another year, I start to pay attention because I recognise this one almost instantly. This one was the one that he won himself. Is it just me or does this guy love himself?

But still, I watch it with great care. I watch him run to the Cornucopia and grab a backpack and some weapons and flee into the dense woodland in almost no time. For a fourteen year old, he was a fast runner. By the time he had left, only two other tributes had fled while already six were lying lifelessly on the floor, either dead or dying.

The camera focuses on the career tributes that were all still alive and claiming all the remaining supplies, killing of those who try to take anything - the gruesome bloodbath. It was weird that Finnick did not join the careers like the girl tribute from District 4, considering that where we are from is considered as a career district. But then again, the career tributes always seem older than fourteen. That girl was maybe seventeen years old.

Within the first few minutes if watching, I've gathered that speed is almost vital if you want something that will enable you to survive from the cornucopia. I personally think that's a bit of risk if it was me. I'm a fast runner but would I risk running towards the lean, mean killing machines when I could run away? Like what I do with most of my life's problems?

I watch closely, making mental notes as does Declan. He has stopped trying and to make his tower of cards to watch the games too.

After the first night in the arena nine tributes were dead already. The screen switches from one tribute to Finnick who was near water, preparing to fish with the net he wove from vines somewhere. That is one skill I'm glad I have under my belt from years of practice making them for Annika. A net is most likely going to be useful in the arena seeing as I know how to fish and gut fishes but I don't know a thing about hunting and skinning animals.

Declan appears to be watching intently too. I know he knows how to fish to and is a whiz at setting campfires. He used to light the campfire for us when we camped as a group down by the beach. I think about making him my ally that way at least one of us will have a better chance of making it home. I was about to suggest this when he beats me to it.

"Annie, I think we should team up." he suggests, taking the exact words right out of my mouth. I nod and do not question him. He is probably thinking the same thing as me; unless he is trying to trick me into a false sense of security. I am probably just being paranoid though.

I look back at the screen and see Finnick being attacked by three older, bigger and possibly stronger tributes, one of which is the girl from our district. He managed to run fast and far enough for now after leaving several wounds all over the other tributes, and takes cover somewhere hidden. He is bleeding from his upper left arm and it did not look good. He looked in pain and appeared to not know how to stop it.

For a moment, I think he was going to die but then I look away from the screen to the nineteen year old sitting behind me. He notices this and winks, making me feel awkward about how I should respond to that. I chose to face forward and continue to observe. Looking at me reminded me that he must've found a way to survive seeing as we're in the same room now.

I turn back just in time to see a parachute falling rather quickly with a hefty trident attached to it. The trident is huge, much bigger than the trident my daddy used to use to catch fishes and the many that Annika's family owns. Finnick looks amazed that the trident has been sent to him and the close up to his sea green eyes tells the audience that he is just getting warmed up.

I only remember seeing Finnick throwing his net over several tributes before luging out of trees, bushes or water and impaling his trident into his opponent's torso, twisting it as he withdrew. Blood all over the ground and sometimes their internal organs were hanging out slightly, attached to the triangular tips of the trident.

The sight sickens me deeply and I try to supress my gag but I can't help but wish that he was my mentor, not Mags. He could probably help me get over my fear of hurting people with his ruthlessness and stealth and help me get gifts as impressive as that one.

When it comes down to the last two in the 65th Hunger Game, Finnick looks wild, out of control but also in complete control of the arena. The camera focuses on him more than the other opponent. Neither of them were considered really strong contenders. I believe Finnick only scored a six as did the tribute, but I do not know why. Surely he must've showed of his impressive trident wielding abilities.

The other tribute, a girl from District 8, probably survived till now because of her insane hiding skills. I don't even remember seeing her at all!

I never usually pay attention to the games so I don't actually know how Finnick won.

The final showdown did not actually contain much action. It looked more like they were trying to stare each other down. She had a sword in hand that she must've taken from a dead tribute seeing as she wasn't involved in the initial bloodbath and was ready to move at the slightest movement Finnick made. Finnick tossed the net forward after what seemed like the longest stare down in the whole of Panem and the other tribute flicks it away with her sword. By the time she turned back, she was dead.

Even though they were standing a fair distance apart, Finnick had managed to throw his trident forward, penetrating the tribute's skin in a matter of seconds and breaking her ribs too as indicated by the haunting cracks. The cannon sounded and he was crowned the victor.

I have to admit, I am impressed by Finnick, though luck had a part to play. He was lucky that a sponsor sent in a trident when they did. It must have been the luck of the sea green eyes.

The screen went black after that. Declan and I spin round to see Finnick's hand over the control panel. "Now that we've all watched that, I feel ready to be a mentor." he says.

I would feel a lot less nervous he was my mentor and that was aimed at me, not Declan.

Mags is now awake and had moved from her seat on the couch and is at the dinner table without alerting me, or Declan for that matter. He looks just as surprised as me to see her there.

Maybe Mags is not as bad as I thought after all.

Just then Lacy reappears and announces something that I never hoped I'd have to hear, ever, in a sing-song voice.

"Welcome to the Capitol!"

* * *

I hope like this chapter (over 3,000 words, about 7 pages, longer like I promised). Like last time, I'd really appreciate it if you review! Thanks guys :) Next chapter may be even longer! Also, please tell me if you think I should keep the story in Annie's POV or change it to other character's POVs too or write in third person (which is what I normally do). I'm a bit unsure :/ Also should I keep writing in present tense? I don't usually write in present tense but I need the practice. Please correct me if you notice errors!

Well, until next time. See ya!


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